Alien versus Predator: The Reaper
by L. A. Vockins
Summary: The Yautja are the ultimate hunters. Honour bound, deadly and highly skilled. Embarking on another hunt, not all goes as planned for The Reaper.
1. Chapter 1

Zarack's fingers glided the control console of his ship, tapping in a series of ancient glyphs known only to his race. A holographic display appeared before him showing the layout of a human cruiser that he was fast approaching. Red blips appeared throughout the maze of corridors and rooms. The lights emanating from the holograph were signs of life. They were, however, not human. Zarack grinned, his webbed maw clicking as his fangs met. He had come to hunt humans, but what had taken over their vessel, would make for a fine hunt indeed.

Zarack was a Yautja, an ancient race of warriors. Known as predators to the limited minds humans. Colossal in stature and strength. Monstrous in appearance. Advanced in technology. A race of hunters. From the moment that they can wield spear and wrist blade, the hunt is what they train for. It is what they lived for. Every fight is another fight toward perfecting the ultimate killer. And Zarack was no exception to this. He was one of the greatest among his species. His name was spoken in whisper among the other Yautja. His tales of slaughter were told to the young blooded before their first hunt. To the humans, he was known simply as the reaper, for his presence meant only one thing. Death.

The Predator closed the display before him and arose from the console. Long black quills flowed like hair beyond his broad shoulders, a testament to his age and experience. He walked over to another console, his footfalls thunderous on the metallic flooring of his ship. A flickering beam of green light scanned his biosignature. When the ancient technology was assured of the Predators identity, a hiss and the whir of servos erupted from the wall before him. A large panel slide across, revealing an arsenal of ornate weaponry and an assortment of armour.

Zarack prepared himself for the hunt. He loaded his gauntlet with vorpal darts and a razor net. He selected a combi-spear from the several that were displayed. It was a long weapon, deadly from point to point. Glyphs and runes were crudely etched along its entirety, marks of how many lives it had taken. He spun it round in his hands to check the weight, it was perfect. Pressing a button on its shaft retracted the weapon to half of its length, and he holstered it on his back. A plasma caster, one of the most feared weapons in the Yautja arsenal, was fixed to his shoulder armour. To complete the preparation ritual, Zarack removed his helmet from its stand. Its ornate form was decorated with claw marks and glyphs, bone and fang. Pressing it to his face, the pressure clamps hissed, fixing it in place. The heads-up display appeared before his eyes, a series of red runes, informing him that all was functioning as intended. The Reaper was prepared for the hunt.

His rank among the Yautja meant that Zarack had his choice of the finest hunters in the galaxy to accompany him. But he, like many others of his species, revelled in the challenge and the glory that it would imbue on him if he succeeded alone. And this hunt would bring him great glory indeed. The creatures on the human ship were Xenomorph. A creature that had evolved to be the ultimate killer. Every part of its biology was a weapon. From its rending talons to its spiked tail. Even down to its blood, that melted armour as easily as it burned flesh. He and his kind had hunted the Xenomorph for centuries, and so Zarack knew their bio signature well. Only the elite of the Yautja could face such a creature and survive. And the reaper had hunted many before.

Zarack set his ship to remain in place and relay the layout of his destination to his gauntlet. As he stepped in the pod, its pneumatic doors closed behind him as the auto harness locked him in place. The pod was only just large enough for the predator, but the cramped space fulfilled its purpose. It was a means to the hunt. Zarack could already feel his blood begin to boil. The call of the hunt was strong in every Yautja. They craved the kill and the slaughter. It took centuries of experience to restrain it in order to stalk their prey.

The propulsion matrix whirred as it launched the small vessel from the ship. The pod shook violently as it gained speed towards its target. Zarack closed his eyes and prepared himself for the hunt. The time had almost arrived, and he was ready for the fight. He was Yautja, and he would hunt until either his prey took his life or he was forced to take his own. He was the Reaper.

Zarack hurtled through the dark void of space to the hunt. He braced for impact as collision with his pod, and the human vessel was imminent. It was a matter of minutes before the metal alloy that encased him shuddered intensely. He had made contact. In a bright burst of light, the hull before the pod was transformed to molten slag. The doors of the pod slid open and released the predator from his restraint. Zarack leapt from the breach, landing on the floor with the crunch of metal beneath his immense form. The corridors of the vessel were dark and narrow. Failing lights flickered as they hung loosely from the ceiling. The Yautja flickered his vision through infra-red to bio signature to night vision. There was nothing alive close by, but a mass of things not. Red painted the room that he stood, and wet lumps of flesh lay strewn across the floor. They were human, mutilated beyond recognition. Torn apart by claw and brutal strength. Among the massacre was one of them. A Xenomorph. It was an infant among its kind, barely formed into the warrior that it would become. Its tail ended in a scythe like blade and its fingers ended in long vorpal claws. It's black chitinous hide reflected the glow of the light. Sickly green blood boiled around it, dripping from bullet holes that riddled its elongated skull. Its fang lined maw was open, revealing a second smaller maw, still slick in thick red. The Xenomorph was a powerful foe indeed. The humans fought back and won, but at heavy cost. The tracking system in the reaper's helmet began blipping, three red dots on his superimposed display warned him that something was close. This creature was not alone in its attack.

The vents above the predator began to shake, the sound of claw on metal echoing from within. The creatures must have led dormant in the area after the slaughter had ensued. Zarack prepared himself, flicking three long blades from his wrist gauntlet and activating his combi-spear in a single perfected motion. He was the hunter, and they, his prey. They just didn't yet know it. Zarack roared a challenge, a deep guttural sound that reverberated around the metal hallways. The first of the Xenomorph leapt from the shadows of a vent, it's claws poised to rend the Reaper. Zarack launched his combi-spear in response, his reflexes immediate to the attack. Such was the strength of the predator, the weapon carried the creature with it. With a dying hiss and screech, the Xenomorph was impaled to a wall. It wasn't long before the other two were upon Zarack. The predator tracked the first with his tri-beam targeting system, the plasma caster on his shoulder whirring as it followed its mark. The ancient weapon hummed as plasma built up within its chamber. With nothing but a thought, the weapon was unleashed on its target. The creature was obliterated from the super charged bolt in a shower of acid blood and gore. The metal alloy of the ship steamed and boiled where ever the remains fell.

The second leapt at Zarack before he could react. The creature brought its deadly claws down on the predator, carving further gouges in his helm. Before the Xenomorph even touched the ground, the Reaper caught it in a vice-like grip around its throat. The creature flailed with claw and tail in an attempt to escape but to no avail. With all of his might, Zarack slammed the Xenomorph into the grated metal floor with a crunch. It writhed and twitched as it struggled to move its wracked body. Zarack felt the fury of his species and let it overtake him. He was not yet finished with this foe. He kicked it sprawling across the ground before obliterating it with a shot from his plasma caster. A roar of victory ended the fight, but the predator knew, that this not be the last in this hunt. He would not take trophies from these infant creatures, they were not worthy of his prowess. For there to be infants, there had to somewhere be an adult, and that would be a worthy prey.

Zarack reclaimed his combi spear from the impaled Xenomorph, its body now fallen lifeless. The predator had learned of the creature's acidic properties long ago, and so his armour and weaponry were forged of a resistant alloy. Adapting was one of the Yautja greatest strengths, and was a trait that the humans could not keep up with. Still steaming with the Xenomorph's blood and entrail, but entirely unscathed, Zarack returned the combi spear to its holster and retracted his wrist blades. The ship had gone eerily silent after the fight. Activating the holographic display on his wrist gauntlet, the layout of his hunting ground appeared before him. Several more red dots appeared, stalking the vent shafts and empty rooms. The Xenomorph, like him, were hunting. But it was not the predator that they were hunting. A room on the far side of the ship blipped with the faint signal of humans. But that was not all that caught the reaper off guard. A green blip signified that another predator was aboard the ship. This hunt would not be as simple as he had first thought.

Activating the communicator in his ornate helm, Zarack searched for the nearby Yautja's signal. In a series of clicks and growls, the Reaper warned. "This hunt is claimed. Leave."

Static burst from the responder immediately, the other predator responded simply with a deep guttural laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

"There's a fucking predator on board! Are we safe in here from that thing?" Tristen blurted whilst keeping his eyes on the monitor. He had just watched the mighty creature dispatch three xenomorphs with ease.

"This is the best chance that we've got. This safe room is shielded from Yautja technology. As far as we know anyway. Their species are adept at evolving their technology to counter our own. So, in theory, it doesn't even know that we're here." The ships chief engineer, Ariel, responded then shrugged. "We're fucked anyway. The xenomorph definitely know we're here. They just haven't found a way in yet."

Tristen, Ariel and four others had locked themselves in the safe room for almost two weeks. The room had everything that they needed. Renewable energy and water. Food supplies for at least two months. And meter thick walls on all four sides. It was made for this exact purpose. In case of enemy attack. They were aboard a large asteroid mining vessel. Two weeks ago, there were almost five hundred crew and workers aboard. Now, from what they had seen and heard, it was just them. It had all started when the mining ship received a distress call from a small vessel not far from where they were. The ships command complied. It was their folly. There was no one alive when they reached the signals source. It was a blood drenched ghost of its former self. A xenomorph and swarm of parasitic face hugger was unleashed onto the mining ships populace. It was the matter of a single day before the creatures were dominant and free to prowl. The miners and crew were no soldiers, and the few guards that were, did not last the night.

"But it might help us, right? I've heard of that before." Tristen said. He wasn't a miner and he was far from crew or guard. He was there to inspect their operation and make sure that targets were being met. He was a business man, still suited and booted in the extravagance that his lifestyle allowed. He was also the first to flee to the safe room in the sight of danger.

"Do you not know what that is?" A voice came from behind, one that hadn't spoken since they had been there. It was a man, huddled with his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth like an escaped mental patient. The event had clearly taken its toll on him, as it rightly should have. "That Yautja will not help you. He is the reaper of man."

Defied by a member of his own species. The reaper would not let that pass. He hadn't come to this place for the head of a Yautja, but if his hand was forced, so be it. To laugh in the face of the reaper was a foolish thing indeed. Zarack closed his communicator, he would not need it again. The next contact with the other predator would be face to face, blade to blade. He was not the only threat on board though. The xenomorph were still stalking, prowling for their next kill. The humans that he had discovered seemed to be trapped in a room, like animals in a cage. The reaper was amused by this. He did not have hatred for their species, but they always made for an interesting hunt. Many Yautja had fallen at their hands, but not the reaper. He looked to the day that they would become a challenge.

Zarack stalked the human ship without hindrance. He knew that it wasn't out of fear that the xenomorph hadn't initiated an attack yet, for they knew none. They hadn't attacked yet due to opportunity. Despite their entirely bestial nature, they had a born instinct to know when they were outmatched. They were biding their time, stalking in shadow for the moment to strike. They had already tested the reaper for weakness, and found none. The next attack would be far greater, but Zarack was prepared. While the xenomorph waited, he would use that time to hunt the fool that would dare mock him.

The reaper flicked his vision to detect Yautja technology. As if answering his thoughts, the other predator was close. A bright glow of luminous green flared in his sight's, and it was moving in fast. Zarack could feel the floor beneath him vibrate under his assailant's heavy footfalls. It was obvious to him now that the predator wasn't there to hunt the xenomorph, but him instead. The reaper would not flinch at the challenge and roared in defiance to let his foe know that he was not afraid. The floor stilled as the predator was close, his footfalls turning to a thunderous stride. From the corridors his colossal form emerged, his eyes locked on the Reapers. His shoulders were broader than Zarack's and he stood taller. He wore little armour and adorned heavy scars and runes painted in white. Zarack recognised him as a berserker from a clan that he did not recognise. They were a bestial form of Yautja, one that gave into the rage of their species. They were a sight to behold and a terrifying combatant. But this one was young. Barely blooded. Its short-blackened quills denied its experienced façade.

"I am here for your head, Reaper." The predator said.

"I welcome you to try." Zarack replied.

"I, Tor of the Skarrin clan, challenge you."

Before weapons were drawn, a piercing screech echoed from all around the Yautja. The vents above them shook and the floor below them clattered with claw. The xenomorph had found their time to strike.

The first of the creatures to emerge from shadow was monstrous, its visage only enhanced by the failing lighting of the ship. Its stature was three times that of its infant brethren. This was the Xenomorph that Zarack had come to hunt. A fully-grown warrior. Its maw drooled as it poised for the attack, its claws and bladed tail ready to strike. It raised its head and let out another piercing screech followed by a long hiss, a command to its lurking kin. A swarm of creatures burst from vents above and gratings below, surrounding the Yautja on all sides.

In response, the Reaper unleashed a volley of shots from his plasma caster into the Xenomorph behind Tor. The berserker's eyes widened, sure that the shots were meant for him as super-heated plasma skimmed his face. Three of the creatures burst into displays of gore and ichor.

"Don't die on me yet, young blood. I'm not done with you." Zarack roared over the sounds of battle.

Tor let out a crazed battle cry and activated his duel wrist gauntlets, long serrated blades extending from them both. Spinning in a powerful wide arc, the berserker decapitated a further two of the incoming creatures. Acid blood rained on the predator's flesh, but the burns only seemed to enrage him further. Seeing that Tor could more than handle himself, Zarack turned his intentions to the threat that was upon himself. Engaging his wrist gauntlet, he unleashed its full salvo of vorpal darts at the closest creature. Multiple blades passed through the Xenomorph's torso, rending gaping wounds in their wake. Blood steamed, and the creature slumped to the floor, lifeless. A second creature leapt at the Reaper, but his sights were already upon it. Zarack launched a razor net, catching the Xenomorph in the air. It screamed and flailed in a futile attempt to escape, as the razer net closed, cutting it into small gridded pieces. The Reaper drew his combi spear and extended his wrist blades. In a flurry of expert strikes and parries, the remaining infant Xenomorph lay slain around him. In the focus of battle, no such creature was a match for the experienced Yautja.

The sounds of battle still resounded from behind the reaper, as Tor battled with the Xenomorph warrior. They clashed fist and claw, tail and blade. Tor had suffered deep gouges to his torso, and his flesh bubbled from the creature's acidic blood, but still fought on as crazed as before. The berserker used his titanic strength to slam the creature into walls and floors while impaling it with thrusts of his feral blades, but the warrior did not relent. The Reaper looked on as the young Yautja struggled. Zarack had a choice to make. Help Tor and risk insulting his honour or leave him to die. The latter would be deserved for his insolence, but the reaper saw a potential in him that very few Yautja had. The potential to be a formidable hunter, and therefore a protector of his species. The Yautja were too few and divided in the universe to lose such an asset. Even if that asset had come for the Reaper's head.

The Xenomorph warrior swiftly gained the upper hand on the young Yautja. Despite the size and power of the berserker, his strikes and attacks were reckless, leaving too many opportunities for retaliation. His wounds were beginning to weaken him as fluorescent green blood leaked, ebbing his life force. The creature found opening in Tor's defence, its deadly talons clawing gouges into one side of his face. The predator roared in pain. In his disorientation, the warrior advanced. A sharp whip of the creature's tail knocked the berserker to the ground. The warrior bounded towards its prey, savouring the moments before the kill. Tor knew that this was his end, and braced for the strike that would end his life. The creature was upon him, its face closing in on the predators. Locking gaze with the warrior, the dark abyss of its eyes would be the last thing the young Yautja would see.

Zarack made his decision at that moment and launched his combi spear. It struck true with the might of the predator, into the warrior's side, knocking it from its intended kill. The Reaper roared in challenge, charging at the stunned creature with gauntlet blades ready for the strike that would end his hunt. The Warrior was quick to recover, but not quick enough. Zarack dodged its clawed flurry with ease before disembowelling it with a single precise swipe. The Xenomorph showed no signs of slowing, even as its entrails spilled from its grievous wound. The Reaper once more dodged its onslaught, only to get to its side and tear his combi spear free. Bringing the weapon to bear, Zarack thrust the sharp tip through the creature's throat, severing sinew and spine. The warrior died without a sound as the Reaper kicked his combi spear free with a flourish. He had proven who was the hunter, and who was the prey.

The clicking growl of Tor filled the room, resonating from behind the Reaper. The Berserker, in spite of his wounds, had arose to his feet. A chemical from Tor's home world coursed through his veins, renewing him with vigour and rage. The berserker charged with reckless abandon. The Reaper did not move. Did not even flinch at his foolish foe. As the Young Yautja was upon him, he made a deft step to one side and swept the legs from under the berserker with his combi spear. The predator's colossal form crashed to the floor. Before Tor could rise, Zarack was already upon him, a foot planted firmly on his back. The Reaper held back the rage within him. A rage that would have overtaken a younger him, and forced his hand to remove this predator's head and display it among his collection. But he was not that Yautja no longer. Raising his combi spear, he thrust it through Tors shoulder and further through the floor beneath him, pinning him where he led.

"Foolish young one. I shall let you live, but only for you to become stronger." The Reaper said. "When you are stronger, come and return my weapon. You shall have your challenge then."

Tor did not speak a word, and Zarack walked away. It would be a while before the berserker regained his strength to get himself free. But he was strong enough and he would, the Reaper knew this. Zarack glided his clawed fingers over his wrist gauntlet and tested his cloaking field. His entire form flickered in a haze that resembled his surroundings, rendering him almost invisible to human eyes. His hunt was not yet over. He would see if there was a challenge among the humans onboard.


	3. Chapter 3

Explosions quaked the ship as the outer loading bay was breached. Five marines entered in a practised formation, aiming pulse rifles to counter any threat that appeared. They adorned full combat suits and rebreather masks, to survive any environment. They were commandos of the Wayland Yutani corporation. A superpower in the human sphere that thrived on new technology and interstellar discovery. As such, the commando's were the best-equipped soldiers in the universe. That, of course, meant little to the creature that would hunt them.

"This is extraction team alpha, clearance code 5512. Does anyone copy?" The leader of the commando's transmitted over the emergency frequency.

"Yes! Um.. this is Ariel." A startled voice crackled through the comm link.

"What is your location?"

"We're in the safe room… there's five of us in here. Please help…"

"Sit tight. We're on our way."

"Be careful out there. The Yautja are here."

The commando team heard the conversation through their headsets and looked at each other in concern. They were more than prepared for the Xenomorph, but the Yautja were a different enemy altogether. As one, they synchronised headsets, set masks to infra-red vision and adjusted their pulse rifles to micro-explosive rounds. They were ready for their mission. Focused on their objective, no matter the overwhelming odds that had been put before them. Their mission, however, was not rescue. It was execution.

The lifeless mounds that were once Xenomorph lay strewn around the Reaper, the fully grown among them defeated at his feet. Grasping its head in a tight grip and flicking the blades from his wrist gauntlet, the reaper removed its head in a series of rending cuts. The trophy would be returned to Zarack's ship, where it would be flayed down to the bone and displayed among his collection. The Reaper stowed the large head on a crudely fashioned hook that hung from bindings on his back. Zarack activated the relayed layout of the ship. All signs of the Xenomorph had been eradicated, but that did not mean that there were none that slumbered. He looked around to see Tor still lying motionless on the cold floor. Flicking to his bio scan vision, he checked the vitals of the young Yautja. His heart pounded steadily in his chest, and his wounds had already begun to heal. It would be some time before he awoke, but wake he would. A warning flashed in Zarack's helm, relayed from his ship. A human vessel had just docked. An explosion that echoed through the silence confirmed their arrival. The Reaper would go in search of the humans, to seek the worthy among them.

Ariel and Triston guided the others in preparation for departure. They gathered water and food in rucksacks and armed themselves with miscellaneous makeshift weapons. Triston pulled rank for the only actual weapon they had. A pistol with a full clip of ammunition that was stowed in the safe room in case of emergency. Ariel wielded her maintenance jack, its considerable weight comfortable in her grasp. She knew that what they had would do nothing to slow a Yautja on the hunt, but it brought comfort to the group in knowing that they could try. They were all ready to leave. The days of horror that they had endured was about to end, but they knew of the horrors that still awaited. On the ship's surveillance, they had witnessed the might of the Yautja that hunted outside their safe room. Yes, it had removed the threat of the Xenomorph, but what it was, was far more terrifying.

Three knocks on the heavy, electronically sealed door signalled that their rescuers had arrived. Switching the monitor to the camera that kept watch on the door, showed the team of soldiers, Weapons drawn and ready to enter. Ariel felt a tingle in her spine and a tightening in her chest. There was something amiss about their formation and the way their weapons were pointed toward the door.

"Well… what the fuck are we waiting for? Let them in." Triston said, making his way to the control panel to release the lock on the door.

"Wait! Something's not ri…" Ariel began but was too late. Triston hit the release button.

"Get down. Get down. Hands where we can see them!" The commando's burst through, shouting commands and aiming weapons at the survivors. They all complied except one.

"What is th…" Her question was cut short as a bullet passed through her cranium. The commandos weren't there to rescue anybody, they were sent by the company to tie up any loose ends. Tears ran down Ariel's face, all hope that was had now gone. She dared not look up but could feel the sights of one of the weapons aimed at her. It would not be long now before the darkness would take over.

A roar from the open door echoed throughout the room. Ariel looked up to see that the soldiers had turned to open fire at an object, obscured in a haze that reflected its surroundings. They opened fire, their weapons deafening in the enclosed space. Small explosions rained in sparks as the ammunition missed their moving target.

"Hold fire, hold fire!" The commandos complied to the command without hesitation, but at the moment they did, the haze appeared once more. Three blue flashes of light reduced three of the soldiers to a shower of gore and scalded flesh. The unit's commander and his surviving comrade opened fire, but the Predator was swift in its retreat, leaving unscathed from the hail of fire. The commando's knelt, their sights focused on the doorway, ready to take down Yautja should it enter again.

Ariel calmed the flood of tears from her eyes, adrenaline taking over in the opportunity to act. She gripped her weapon tightly beneath her and looked toward Tristan. He had exactly the same idea, revealing the pistol hidden beneath him. Ariel nodded to him, a sign that now was the time to strike. Triston placed the pistols muzzle almost point black to the commando's helmet to ensure that his shot would not fail. The weapon jerked back in his untrained hands, the bullet from its chamber entering the soldier's skull in a display of blood and splintered bone. Before the unit's commander could react, Ariel brought her maintenance jack down in a crushing arc. The commandos head caved beneath his helmet as his body twitched for the last time. Ariel looked up, only to see the haze had returned. The click and growl of the Yautja language confirmed his presence. How long he was there for, they did not know.

"Drop your weapons," Ariel whispered to the others. She knew that the Predators mercy would be their only chance of survival. The Yautja disengaged its cloaking technology, revealing its monstrous form to all. It bore scars of many battles and stood towering before them. Unexpected to all, it showed no signs of hostility.

Zarack had defeated the worthy on his hunt, and now, four humans stood before him. He had witnessed them kill their own kind and disarm in his presence. For this, the Reaper would let them live. The female among them was a warrior, one that may yet grow to be a challenge. Zarack strode over to her kill. All eyes watched him cautiously. Grasping the fallen humans head with both clawed hands, he twisted twice in a sharp practised motion. With his titanic strength, he pulled the head free with spinal cord still attached. The female deserved a trophy for her kill, and the Reaper would grant her this. The humans stood motionless, Zarack's bio scanner revealed their hearts thudding hard in their chests. They were rightfully afraid of him, but at this time, they would live. The Reaper bestowed the gore covered skull in the female's cupped hands. She nodded her appreciation as the Yautja ran a bloodied claw down her forehead, anointing her with her kill.

Zarack left the humans where they were. They would leave the ship and tell other humans of the Reaper. Of his ferocity. Of his prowess. Of his honour. He had made enemies on the ship, but Zarack looked toward the challenge that they would one day impose. It wasn't long before the Yautja was once again on his ship, the Xenomorph skull among his vast collection. The hunt was over, for now, but a new hunt was never too far away for the Reaper.


End file.
